


Rub one off

by Craftybadger1234



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Frottage, Humor, M/M, Not What It Looks Like, One Shot, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 22:17:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18860221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Craftybadger1234/pseuds/Craftybadger1234
Summary: From the ‘Words with Friends’ dictionary -Frottage - 1. The technique or process of taking a rubbing from an uneven surface to form the basis of a work of art. 2. A work of art produced by taking a rubbing. 3. The practice of touching or rubbing against the clothed body of another person in a crowd as a means of obtaining sexual gratification.Rating is for language.





	Rub one off

**Author's Note:**

> I play a _lot_ of ‘Words with Friends’ and usually just ignore the stupid ‘word of the day.’ But one day, I kid you not, the word of the day was ‘frottage’ and I would have shot milk out of my nose if I’d been drinking milk at the time. 
> 
> This is short, and maybe not fleshed out enough, but it's fine - just meant to be a lighthearted, funny thing I wrote quickly.
> 
> Thank you to CleopatraIsMyName for correcting my mistakes. In case you can't tell, I did some of the writing on my phone, hence the odd auto-corrects. Thanks for catching them for me! :)

Harry had better things to do with his Friday afternoon than his ‘Creative Outreach’ class. Like study for an upcoming exam in his ‘Infectious Diseases’ class. What use did he have for these random art projects? Supposedly the activities could be used as forms of therapy, both physical and mental, but to Harry it seemed like a waste of time. His concentration would be in ‘Creature Induced Injuries’ and he doubted a new werewolf would feel like finger painting his worries away.

But it was required so he slumped in his corner, silently shooting daggers at the teacher as she went on about the kind of paper that worked best with finger paints. He scanned the room, gauging the interest levels of the other students.

As usual, his eyes landed on Malfoy and had a hard time moving on. He was the only one looking at Healer Swanson while she demonstrated how to use the watercolors, as if they were all too stupid to dip brushes in water and paint without detailed instruction. Eyeing Malfoy’s profile, Harry couldn’t help but imagine running his lips along the smooth cheek, or his fingers through the baby-fine hair. Malfoy even managed to make their hideous, lime-green trainee robes look enticing.

Malfoy nodded and wrote something in his notebook. Although he looked studious, Harry knew Malfoy also saw this class as a waste of time and so was more likely reading his notes from ‘Infectious Diseases’ and making note for the upcoming test.

Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea. Harry slipped his notes from his bag and began to read them over, temporarily tuning out their teacher, who had moved on to tempera paints.

“And then at this station,” Healer Swanson said, “you can practice frottage.”

 _Holy fuck_!

Harry’s head whipped around, to see if anyone else had heard what he had heard. Only one person was looking around with the same frantic sort of alarm.

“It’s simple enough. Lay your paper on top of whatever you are getting an impression of...”

Malfoy. His eyes met Harry’s and he raised a single eyebrow in question. Harry waggled his own eyebrows in response. Malfoy’s lips parted and his tongue lightly traced his upper lip. 

“Then rub the side of a crayon back and forth like this.” Healer Swanson scribbled vigorously, then held up her paper. “See? A quick and easy piece of art.”

She continued on about the technique and its applications in therapy, but Harry stopped listening entirely. His eyes were glued to Malfoy and the slow grin that was making Harry feel… _things_. When Healer Swanson finally stopped talking and directed them to find a station to work at, Harry shot out of his seat and made a beeline for the crayons.

And thank fuck, Malfoy did the same.

“You seem a little over-eager to try a little frottage, Potter,” Malfoy said. For just a second, his fingertips felt like a caress along Harry’s hand as they both reached for paper and crayons.

Harry flipped through the templates of various animals and finally pulled a bird from the pile. He winked at Malfoy, “Oh it’s one of my favorite things.”

“Favorite?” Malfoy wasn’t looking at him anymore, but a light flush traveled down his cheeks, indicating he wasn’t indifferent to their conversation.

“Probably in the top five.” Harry laid his paper over top and slowly rubbed his crayon back and forth.

“Well, who doesn’t love rubbing one off?”

Harry bit back a laugh but before he could respond, another voice chimed in. “I used to love doing this with my friends when I was a kid!” 

He and Malfoy turned to Samantha Miller, a petite redhead with shining, innocent eyes. For those few moments, Harry had forgotten they were in class and had company at their table.

She smiled at the two of them. "We'd collect leaves and things and make little collages."

“Mm… yeah I do love frottage with friends,” Harry said in agreement.

It was Malfoy’s turn to laugh, and Harry made the mistake of making eye contact. The two of them dissolved into childish giggles, drawing the eye of Healer Swanson. She bustled over with a smile.

“Everyone having fun over here?”

“Oh the best time, Healer,” Malfoy said. “Potter here was just saying how much he _loves_ frotting.”

“Oh wonderful! That’s a lovely bird you’ve made.”

“Thanks.” Harry said, looking down at his blurry bird with a frown. “Maybe I need a little more practice.”

“Remember, you can use a mild sticking charm to keep the paper in place,” Healer Swanson said with a smile. She patted Harry on the back and moved on to the next table.

“Here, try this one.” Malfoy handed him another template.

“What’s this?” Harry frowned at the unfamiliar animal.

“A beaver.”

Harry scrunched up his face and handed it back. “Not really my style, if you get my drift.”

Malfoy winked, “Yeah just checking. Here’s a snake… that better?”

Harry traced the edge of the template. “I don’t know, how big is it? I don’t want to waste my time rubbing it if it’s not a decent enough size to fill… my paper.”

“I think you’ll find it's just right.”

“Well… it’s worth a shot.” Harry plucked the template from Malfoy’s hands and a fresh piece of paper. 

Samantha watched Harry rub the crayon over his paper. “Oh is that a boa constrictor? Can I have it when you’re done?”

“No, of course not!” Malfoy said a little too loudly.

Samantha stared in shock at his outburst. “Sorry… I’ll just try this kitty instead.” She turned away from the two of them as much as the table would allow.

“Good choice.” Malfoy leaned in close to Harry, pretending to admire his new artwork. “Looks good, Potter.”

“It looks like the shit an infant school kid churns out by the bucketful to paper the fridge with.”

Malfoy hummed and nodded thoughtfully, “You know, my kitchen is done up in that exact shade of blue.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah...want to hang it on my fridge?” His leg pressed against Harry’s and his hand landed on Harry’s thigh. “Perhaps tonight?”

“I don’t know if it’s good enough for that… seems like I need more practice at it.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged.”

“Well… I _do_ love frottage with friends.”

“Excellent.” Malfoy gave him one last wink then stood, running his hand up Harry’s thigh as he did. “See you at seven.”


End file.
